Blame Not
by Magical Shovel
Summary: On a night on the job, Nathan comes across the GraveRobber. They are who they are. You cannot blame their ways.


**Blame Not**

**Disclaimer: **All characters (GraveRobber, Nathan Wallace, Rotti Largo, etc) from Repo! The Genetic Opera belong to Darren Smith and Terrance Zdunich.

_Note: _This takes place a little after Shilo escapes and meets the GraveRobber. I'd like to thank my friend, Chaos, for reading this beforehand. She caught mistakes I failed to catch. ^^; Anyway, enjoy.

Nathan Wallace's wrist communicator flicked on. He let out a tiresome sigh. It seemed as if whenever he was finally able to rest, a newly found job miraculously happened to pop up out of nowhere. Shilo had just promised she would retire for the night after she watched one of Mag's performances.

He gingerly rubbed his temple as the robotic female voice spoke, "Incoming call from Rotti Largo. Incoming call from Rotti Largo."

He quickly picked up, answering it. Rotti honestly did not care what time of the day or night it was when he called. The job had to be done when a client missed their payment. Nathan stiffened upon hearing the firm voice on the other end.

_Do as you're told and she'll never know. _It was a constant reminder to the widowed father. Rotti spoke with clear authority, "Nathan, we have a job for you." That tone was one full of pride. Sadistic pride, if that. This man- this devil was undeniably proud of organ repossession.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Unfortunately, it's in a poor part of town," Rotti continued. "The back alleys. I'm sure you can take care of yourself." Nathan could picture Rotti's cruel sneer. It made him shudder in disdain.

_But you're thinking something else... _He thought, fidgeting gently with his glasses. "Indeed, Sir." He heard Rotti give a light laugh. The images clearly floated about in his mind. Shortly after, Rotti gave Nathan the location of the delinquent.

"Oh, and Nathan?"

"Yes, Mr. Largo?"

"Do as you're told and she'll never know. Now, take care of it."

Rotti always had to bring that up. Not only did it cause Nathan pain, but it angered him. The man thought he had power over him. It was either that or he would intentionally mention Marni. He rose from his chair, passing the portraits of his deceased lover. _Marni... _He frowned lightly, pushing the fireplace out of the way. This was his hidden life. He was a Repo Man. A legal assassin. A villain. A murderer. A monster. That was the way he saw it. He suited up and went off. The helmet's light clicked on to aid his vision.

In his opinion, the fight was short. There was no one to save this one. The victim could neither run nor hide. It would result in failure. He was glad that this job was easy from time to time. Many proved to be difficult in the past. In the end, they were reduced to the same pile of shit from which they came from. They sniveled and cowered for their small lives. It amazed him how they failed to make their payments. The world knew of Repo Men and their bloody deeds. So, why did they continue?

The fact intrigued Nathan when he was attending to his 'work.' They could have easily went to a bank and extracted a loan. In his opinion, loan sharks were far better than GeneCo's own sharks. Would you rather have your home taken or your life? GeneCo was bloodthirsty. They gladly gave the organs only to have them be happily returned in ninety days.

# - # - #

The moon was always luminescent. It loomed high in the sky when the night reigned over all. He could rely on the moon to find his way back home. That was the sheer beauty of it. Whenever the lampposts lights were dim, there was always nature's natural light that was the invention of nature alone.

The number of clients tonight was small. Just a few. They usually came in large numbers which was similiar to a pack of wolves. Their prey was neither human nor animal, however. It was a drug. Simple and supposedly clean. Zydrate. Their blood rushed in ecstasy when they received it. Their movements became less than graceful. It amused him. They went to great extents for it. It was good for him, though. They paid him with sex, money, food, clothing, whatever. As long as they paid him well, he would be content.

Yet, tonight was silent. Not even Amber Sweet had chosen to stop by. His boots clunked against the alley's cement. The shadows had a tendency to play tricks on his eyes. They were false images. Nothing more. Nothing less. The night played tricks on every person's mind. Zydrate or not. GraveRobber's included.

His back pressed against the dumpster whose green paint was slowly chipping away. Gloved hands loosely gripped the rim. In a sense, this dingy place was his home. The dumpster was a bed. A coffin in a sense. It concealed him away from the morning's rays. At night, he rose. His pale skin told the story. He preferred the dark over the light - hidden with the aid of shadows. A creature of the night. GraveRobber propelled himself upwards. The muscles in his arms tightened in response. This caused him to prop onto the top of the dumpster. In other words, he perched upon it like a chair. Cerulean eyes gazed up at the moon. The sounds of billboards and Air Raid Sirens were dim for once. The dread-locked man neatly folded his hands together.

A scream of sheer terror ruined the serenity. He quizzically arched a brow before determining the source. A victim. A lost cause. Annnnnd she was running down his turf. _Great. _His lips knit together into a tight frown. It would be bad publicity if a Repo Man had been down his turf. There would be a loss of clients. At least he went unnoticed. Good for him. Bad for her.

It was beyond his control. He would not conduct chivalry. He cared far more about his own hide rather than someone else's who was as good as dead. Instead, the drug dealer watched. It was an odd factor of human nature. For example, the Romans were spectators. They had watched gladiators fend off lions for their own joyful amusement. GraveRobber was the spectator, the Roman. The woman was the gladiator, trying to find for her dear life. The Repo Man coming down the alley was the lion about to sink his claws into the prey.

Curiosity bubbled inside of him. People went through surgery for multiple reasons... Some stupid. Some needed. Yet, they couldn't afford to pay. Why did they care for such petty obsessions? Simple. Their designer hearts all beat with common blood. They yearned for genetic perfection. They would change who they were if they could. To be grand. To be somebody.

He had to admit. This legal assassin was a bit careless and messy. The man was absorbed in the bloodlust of it all. As the Repo Man harvested the kidneys, he whistled lowly.

"You didn't see what you just saw." A low growl.

"I didn't hear what I just heard." He countered with a smirk.

# - # - #

Nathan sneered in all aggravation. How had he failed to notice that someone else was down this cold alley? It frustrated him. What was he supposed to do? The man made no attempts to help the desperate person. He had watched. You had to be fairly sadistic to do such a thing. The shaded man didn't even flinch.

He couldn't see the other all that well, either. The fellow was concealed by the shadows. The night was good for only one thing, after all. Hiding. Nathan could hide much in it. The lies. The truth. His secret Repo life. It was all it was ever good for.

Nathan had growled out his words with menace and brutal warning, "You didn't see what you just saw." _Spare a life for once._

The man had given a smug remark, "I didn't hear what I just heard."

_Funny._ The father thought dryly to himself.

The next time he spoke to Rotti (which would probably be soon), he would have to tell him of this night and ask about what to do with the mysterious stranger. Just his luck. It was a perfect way to ruin his night.

As if hearing Nathan's thoughts, the man hopped out of his 'hidden' location. His trench coat gently swayed with the graceful movement. His boots were heavy as they collided with the ground. So, he was a drug dealer. That- That GraveRobber. The one who showed Shilo the way outside. The way to cruelty (freedom). Her heart was too weak. Her blood was too fragile. She was like glass. He would not let him taint her.

"You're gawking at me as if you love me. This is a love market, in a sense." He _knew_. That look. That grin. GraveRobber knew who Nathan was.

Nathan was at a disadvantage. He was at defeat. He pulled off his helmet, glaring. The crummy remarks were stretching his nerves. His jaws clenched tightly as if they were wired shut. Teeth ground together. Gloved hands balled into tight fists. By the looks of it, he was irritated all right.

As angry as the widower looked, he spoke with surprising calmness, "Of course not. Shi means the world to me."

"I thought that much." GraveRobber edged closer with his arms behind his back. "Why do you do it?''

Frazzled, Nathan replied. "Do what?"

The other man rolled his eyes. "Kill. Repossess. The works."

"To protect Shilo-"

"No." He was cut off by the peddler.

"Yes." He insisted. A look of plead flickered in his eyes. Those blue eyes were full of melancholy and a sense of abandonment.

The robber tsked and shook his head.

"It's more than that, isn't it?"

The Repo Man frowned. He immensely disliked mind games. Rotti constantly used them as a bladed weapon. They caused a substantial pain. GraveRobber continued to speak, not waiting for Nathan to respond.

"You _like_ killing." It was an accusation. _Guilty. _It was a very visible stamp upon his forehead. He did like it. He chose to deny it, though. Remembering was the equality of dismembering. Shilo could never know. Marni would shun him. Mag would look away. All in all, Rotti would dangle Nathan's strings, leading him to kill all the more. Killing brought him vengeance. Revenge was often a dish best served cold. Not only that, but it was also bittersweet.

"Yes." It was another weak admit of defeat. "But blame not my repoing," Nathan insisted. As if that would change anything.

GraveRobber rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Then, blame not my drug dealing.'' Another sarcastic comment.

Dry words of humor came from both men. They went their separate ways. Nathan would still speak to Rotti about the mischievous GraveRobber. He didn't want the man anywhere near his daughter. As for the Zydrate peddler himself, he would embed it deep into his memory. He opted to never discuss it. You couldn't blame , you could. This was in all aspects of reality.

Blame not their ways.


End file.
